


not in my arms, you won't bleed out

by sweetgoodgraciousangel



Category: Original Work
Genre: And angst, M/M, augustine is injured and oswald is determined to help him, kiiinda auguswald if you squint but uhhh not really but yknow ship tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetgoodgraciousangel/pseuds/sweetgoodgraciousangel
Summary: Augustine's going to die at this rate if he doesn't let Oswald help him.





	not in my arms, you won't bleed out

Oswald _should_ have let the bastard fall over, but he knew he was too good of a person at heart to let him smack his head against the ground and risk hurting himself even more. He’d noticed that Augustine had been stumbling around for the past hour or so, but chose not to mention it if he wouldn’t because the more the two of them could lessen their interactions, the more the both of them would be content having to put up with each other for the time being. Of course it concerned him that Augustine could barely put one foot in front of another without swaying, but if he was up, walking, breathing, and growling out whatever he needed to say, Oswald would have to assume he was fine.

 

That was until he saw the blood.

 

This was crucial. Oswald’s skin crawled at the memories of everything Augustine had done, but good Gods, he didn’t want him to _die_. Especially not in his arms.

 

He’d managed to catch him before he fell all the way down, and it felt strange. Augustine couldn’t support his own weight anymore, as his knees were shaking, fingers unable to keep steady as they grasped desperately for something solid to keep him upright. Oswald refused to let go, even if the grip on his clothes was hard enough to threaten the risk of ripping the fabric.

 

Augustine was not happy about having his help.

 

“Augustine, what - “

 

“Let _go of me_ ,” he hissed in a low voice. “I’m _fine_.”

 

“You’re not. What happened? Show me.”

 

He went to unbutton the coat, but Augustine immediately flailed, almost forcing Oswald to let go of him with the force he was trying to squirm out of his grasp. When they met eyes, the intensity of Augustine’s stare was almost _deadly_ , trying to intimidate him, but this time it wouldn’t work. Oswald gave a glare back twice as stern, twice as powerful, seeing as he was actually able to muster the energy to argue.

 

“Kick and scream all you want, you’re not dying here.”

 

“I don’t need your help!” Augustine spat, attempting to curl in on himself, trying to do _something_ to get away from Oswald. Stubborn brat.

 

“You’re bleeding out on my clothes as we speak, you absolute idiot.” Oswald replied, as nonchalantly and calmly as he could for such ill intent words. There was probably no talking him down from this, no manner of gentle approaches he could try that would break through Augustine’s icy exterior defenses, but _something_ had to be done. Even if the last thing he would want is Oswald’s help, it’s what he was stuck with if he wanted to live.

 

He grabbed onto the button again, and Augustine merely tightened his grip on Oswald’s arm.

 

“ _Don’t_.” He said firmly, though most of its aggression was lost with how shaky his tone was.

 

Oswald undid the button and let the coat fall open, studying the stained white button up underneath. So much for aiming for that pristine appearance in this outfit. He’s definitely not going to be happy about it, but he found that he really couldn’t care less as he picked at each button, letting them fall aside until he was able to see the source of the problem fully.

 

 _Yikes_. Oswald’s not that great with the more natural healing type of magic, but he knew _some_ at least, and with how this looked it was quite a wonder how Augustine wasn’t yelling in pain. It may take every bit of energy out of him to get the entire thing to close up fully though. He knew it would be worth it in the end, no matter if he heard a thank you or not. He supposed at this point words didn’t really matter between the two of them.

 

“Why?” Augustine finally said. His throat sounded raw, and it’s only then that Oswald had taken notice of the tears streaming down his cheeks steadily. His hand was hovering above the wound, trying to recall the little aspects of healing magics to his mind, but was abruptly stopped upon the startling sight.

 

“...Why what?”

 

His lips trembled, but there was still hatred lurking in his expression despite the uncertainty. “Why are you... doing this? You could just leave me to die, you know. Don’t take pity on me.”

 

It’s out of character for him, especially with the way he’s been acting like his life was valuable above any others. And if Oswald was quite frank, he didn’t have an answer to that question. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this.

 

“Just keep your whining on the low and let me fix this.” Oswald muttered out.

 

Augustine’s face fell into a grimace, but he kept silent. It would have to do. He was going to need all the focus he could get if he wanted this wound to reach a point where it wasn’t a risk of him bleeding out. Still, he kind of wished Viola was here. She was much better at this than he was. He was going to try anyway.

 

The magic is warm and delightful at his fingertips, and he strains to keep his thoughts on his intent. The fact Augustine was glaring a hole through him didn’t help, but he remembered his methods and what he’d been taught and effectively tuned it out enough to where he was zoned in on only making the bleeding stop and the wound close. It’s not easy, as he expected. He’s been so accustomed to the stranger types of magics he’s learned that he’s truly forgotten what he’d learned when he was younger.

 

It all came back to him when he realized that if he’d left Augustine alone and not questioned his injuries, he would have died. It puts determination in his thoughts, and the magic grows brighter, more comforting.

 

He’s feeling strained already.

 

By the time he stops, he took notice of the way his own fingers were left unsteady. He barely is able to register the dull ache at the front of his head when he looked down at the wound, immensely pleased to find that he’d done a pretty decent job. It wasn’t completely closed, but it had stopped dripping blood and the edges of it were already pink.

 

Oswald sighed, feeling his own body begin to lose strength. Luckily, having stopped in fuck all nowhere in the midst of trees, the one Augustine collapsed in front of was a large one with a big enough crook between its roots to offer a resting space. Augustine had long stopped glaring, as if he’d been indulging in the feeling of the pain fading away, too relieved to remember his grudge.

 

Oswald used the last of his physical energy to pull them both to the crook, collapsing against it with Augustine on top of him.

 

Neither of them moved to rearrange, and neither had time to protest before they both simultaneously fainted.

**Author's Note:**

> fffFFFffFFFfFFffffffFFFFFuck


End file.
